A Little Hard Work
by Rufus Butterworth
Summary: Dobie and Maynard spend the day working in the Gillis' store, and feelings come to light. Dobie/Maynard


_Hello. This is my first Dobie Gillis fanfiction, set around the time of the first season, though really kind of AU. It's the pairing Dobie/Maynard, which is in no way really a thing, but I think they'd be cute._

_I'm just warning you now, so don't get upset about it._

_I hope you enjoy._

* * *

Imagine it, a Saturday afternoon and nothing to do. No girls, no money for a soda. Nothing but Maynard G. Krebs and a day's worth of work in his father's grocery.

Dobie Gillis had carried box after box from the basement to the store. Maynard tried to help as best as he could, though more often that not, he ended up playing out beats on top of the wooden crates. Dobie set down the last box, letting it bang against the floor. His arms were sore from carrying things, and he leaned against the counter. Boxes were stacked around the counter, waiting to be unpacked and stored in the freezer and placed on the shelves. "I can't do this anymore, Maynard," he complained.

Maynard looked up at his friend, his hands still striking the wooden crates to a new jazz beat. Dobie wiped a hand over his brow, still leaning into the counter. He could barely hear the crackly voice of the radio announcer upstairs, and thought of how his parents lounged around upstairs, while he was down here, slaving away in the summer heat. _No fair, _he whined to himself, as he saw that Maynard was no longer paying attention to him and was back to banging on the crates with the zeal of a four year old.

"Maynard," Dobie said again, trying to get his friend's attention. He continued playing, humming a tune, only being brought out of it when Dobie reached over and tugged on his shoulder.

"Yeah? What is it, good buddy?" Maynard asked, his hands moving to rest by his sides. He looked at Dobie, his eyes attentive

"Come on, we should be getting back to work."

"Work?" the other yelped, jumping a bit.

Dobie couldn't help but roll his eyes, a sigh escaping through his pursed lips. "Yes, Maynard," he drawled, feeling like he was talking to a five year old. "That's what we've been doing this whole time. Work." The yelp came again, and the blond boy couldn't believe he had walked right into that one.

"Come on," he said, grabbing his friend's arm. With a smaller box tucked under one arm as he dragged Maynard along, they got to the freezer room. Relieved to be out of the sticky, summer heat that congregated in the Gillis Grocery, Dobie set the crate down and released Maynard.

The beatnik sat down on one of the crates stacked around the perimeter of the room while Dobie cracked open a box. It was piled to the brim with meat products. The blond boy sighed, as there were dozens of other boxes just like this. Some afternoon… "You know, none of this would be happing if Thalia agreed to go get a soda with me."

"You could like pay for that?"

Dobie shrugged, rubbing his head sheepishly. Of all his friend's crazy tendencies and ideas, Maynard had to choose now to be sensible. "Well…no."

"There it is, good buddy," Maynard answered, his head leaned against the wall. "Anyways, if you weren't around, I'd be like lonely."

Dobie couldn't help his small smile. Maynard was nothing if not loyal, always sticking by the blond. He looked up as he realized his friend had continued. Now he was on his feet, his arms swinging around, his hands waving around like birds taking flight.

"You're like the most, Dobe! And that Thalia girl, she's the stingiest dame I've ever seen! You know, any girl'd be lucky to like be with you."

"Thanks, Maynard, but the only girl for me is Thalia," Dobie replied dreamily, though he enjoyed his friend's sentiment. "I can't choose who I love, all I can do is fall victim to her clutches."

Maynard looked at his friends, his eyebrows raised. "That sounds like painful," was his simple reply.

Dobie rolled his eyes. "No, Maynard. Well, I guess it's sort of painful. But it's a wonderful, beautiful sort of painful."

His friend still looked at a loss. "Like…getting a stomach ache after you like eat a lot of ice cream? But then you keep on eating 'cause it's so good, and you keep getting sick and-"

"K-kind of, Maynard," the Dobie allowed, interrupting the brunet boy. The blond found it best to catch Maynard early in his ramblings, before he got too carried away.

"Oh," he answered. "Well, love's got awful taste. Making you fall for a girl like Thalia Menninger."

"There's nothing wrong with Thalia!" Dobie protested. "She's beautiful, and smart, and stingy, and disloyal, and greedy, and…" The blond boy trailed off, sitting down on a crate and assuming the thinking pose he always did when things bothered him. "You know, Maynard," he started after a considerable pause, during which the beatnik watched his friend expectantly. "I think you've got a point about Thalia."

"I do?" Maynard asked, going and sitting crisscrossed in front of his friend. He rested his chin on his fist, mimicking Dobie's position.

"Yes," Dobie said. "Thalia's a stingy, no good snake…and I love her." He glanced at his friend hopelessly.

"You've got it like bad," he sympathized. "All I was trying to say is you're a good cat. And you should have a girl as swingin' as you."

"Maynard, you _hate _girls."

His friend looked a bit hurt. "No, _girls _hate _me._" Dobie let out a little shrug, accepting the other's statement, and Maynard continued, "I'm just saying, you ought to have a girl who's loyal, and sweet on you, and honest, and will accept you for the bum you'll turn out to be."

Had anyone else said it, Dobie would've found himself getting offended and worked up. But it was hard to be angry with Maynard, with his wide eyes looking up at the blond and a sweet, sincere look on his face.

"It's easier to find _friends_ like that," Dobie mumbled, resuming his thinking position.

Maynard got up, upset that his attempt at consoling his friend had failed. He went back to the corner of the room and sat down, watching the other teenager, wondering what he was thinking about.

Dobie himself barely knew what he was thinking. All he could picture were Maynard's blue eyes looking up at him, loyal and admiring, and he thought over everything the boy had said to him. _I go where he goes... You got me..._

And before he could call himself out for how stupid he was being, he got up and crossed the room. He pulled his confused friend up by the collar of his dirty sweatshirt and kissed him. Maynard's confused words were drowned out as their lips met, their noses bumping and their hands not completely sure where to go. They settled for holding onto the other's forearms, and though it was awkward, it would do.

Maynard's beard was rubbing against Dobie's chin, and if he weren't so terrified, he would've laughed at how it tickled him. In fact, they were both scared, and unsure, and confused, and Maynard barely knew how to kiss and Dobie basically forgot how, but all they could think of were their lips pressing together and the fabric of the other's shirt bunching beneath their nervous fingers.

They sprang apart as they heard a heavy thud behind them. It was the freezer door.

As soon as he came out of shock and his limbs began to move, Maynard rushed to the door, pushing on it, hoping it would open. Dobie hung back, standing still, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Maynard was also confused and frightened, but unlike Dobie, he had to keep moving, pushing on the door, trying to get out. He had to get out of there. Once he abandoned trying to open the door, he began pacing around the freezer room, his hands swinging by his sides. All that they could both think of was the fear of what had just happened and the cold that was now becoming apparent.

"Maynard," Dobie said, trying to keep his voice level as he watched his friend move back and forth.

Upon hearing his name, Maynard turned to Dobie. "Oh gee, Dobe, I'm so sorry!" His friend continued to talk, but Dobie didn't register it.

"You're sorry?" he broke in. "Don't be sorry. It was me. It was my fault, I kissed you!"

"Yeah, but I like let you," Maynard said.

Dobie looked back to his feet. He couldn't believe what he had just done, and didn't want to think of what his parents would say when they found them. He glanced back up at his friend, and Maynard looked frantic, his eyes wide, his arms nervously moving at his sides.

"I- like sorry," was all the beatnik could say. Dobie sat down on a crate, resting his chin on his hand.

"No, it was my fault. I was thinking about Thalia and how rotten she is and you and how good you are and I got confused," the blond boy told him, and he full well knew how lame that sounded.

Maynard's eyebrows knitted together and he went to sit down next to Dobie. "I don't like dig, Dobe."

Letting out a sigh, Dobie nodded. "Neither do I, Maynard. I guess you were just talking about the sort of girl I ought to have, and it sounded a lot like you." He looked down at his knees, cursing his stupidity. He could feel his cheeks getting warm.

Leave it to Maynard to go off of the least important part of Dobie's statement. He turned to Dobie and cried, "But I'm not like a girl!"

Dobie looked up to his friend. "Maynard, I know that. Just… you have all the characteristics of that girl you described to me," he explained, and Maynard's mouth fell open, mouthing an 'oh'.

It took him a few moments to formulate what he wanted to say next, his mind working quickly. "Dobe, you know I'd do like anything for you, 'cause you're like the most. And I know our folks like wouldn't dig what we just did, but I didn't like mind it too much."

Dobie's eyebrows shot up. "You didn't?"

"No," Maynard replied, and the frightened look in the boy's eyes as he nervously pursed his lips reminded Dobie that he hadn't really minded either.

"I didn't either," he muttered, and Maynard barely caught his friend's words. They both just looked straight ahead, disbelieving of how they had gotten themselves into such a mess. "But I probably shouldn't have done that."

"That's like pretty square of you," Maynard teased his friend. "But I guess you're like right, Dobe." Then they looked to each other, and their lips met again. It was slow, and soft, and too short, but they both pulled back thinking that this was what a first kiss was supposed to feel like.

The blond smiled a bit at his friend. "Should we… try to get out of here?"

"Yeah. But your folks are really blasting the radio. Do you think they'll hear us?" Maynard asked, hugging himself in an attempt to ward off the cold.

"If we yell real loud, they're bound to hear us," Dobie pointed out, and went to the door, banging on it. "Ma! Pa!" he yelled, hoping to get their attention. Maynard pressed his ear to the door and could faintly hear the Gillis's radio playing upstairs.

"Gonna have to be louder than that, good buddy," he pointed out.

Dobie nodded to him. "On the count of three then?" His friend nodded his agreement and began to count, raising a finger with each syllable. "One…two...three!"

A loud, earsplitting scream rang out, the two boy's voices combining and resulting in no distinguishable words.

Upstairs, in the Gillis home, Herbert Gillis dropped his glass to the floor, jumping in his seat. Winifred Gillis looked up from her book, turning off the radio and looking to her husband. "Herbert, what on earth was that?"

"I gotta kill that boy, I just gotta," he muttered, massaging his temples and looking down at the stained carpet. Hauling himself to his feet, he muttered, "Ask the boy to work for one afternoon and he starts screeching like a banshee. I always knew he was weird, Winnie, but _this _is taking it too far!"

"Oh, Herbert, he could be hurt!" she chided him, her motherly instincts kicking in. They headed downstairs, stopping as they heard banging. "Where's that coming from?"

From the freezer, they heard a voice yelling, "Ma, help! We're in here!"

"See, Winnie," Herbert said, an exasperated look on his face.

Another voice came after that, "Yes, miss! Like help!"

"I stand corrected," the man said, resting his head in his hands. He looked back up, perturbed. "I gotta kill _those boys, _I just gotta."

"Herbert," Winnie scolded, before opening the door to the freezer. The boys fell out, shivering from the cold of the freezer.

"Thanks, ma," Dobie said, looking relieved.

"Like thanks," Maynard echoed, hugging his dirty sweatshirt closer to his skinny frame.

"How'd you boys even get stuck in there anyways?" Winnie asked, concerned.

Maynard began to giggle a bit, covering his mouth with his cold hands, while Dobie nudged him and explained, "We were unpacking boxes and the door shut."

Mrs. Gillis began to say something along the lines of "Oh, you poor dears," before Herbert interrupted her, his voice booming, "Well get back to work!"

The two boys jumped, muttering things like "yes, sir", and a horrified "Work?!" from Maynard, before they ran to the front of the store, cracking open boxes and piling things on the shelves. Winnie smiled after the two boys, nudging her husband for being to hard on them, and he responded by saying that a little hard work never hurt anyone, though the amusement on their faces was clear. The two headed back upstairs, leaving the two teenagers to their tasks.

The two boys cleaned up the store, unpacking boxes and cleaning the store. Occasionally, they looked up and exchanged a smile. Maybe it was just a dull, lazy Saturday, but Dobie figured that Maynard could make anything interesting, even working in his father's store.

After all, a little hard work never hurt anybody.


End file.
